She sighs. “Will you please get to the point?”
I take a deep breath before flipping the album open. I carefully peel back the protective layer and extract the photo of our moms.
I hand the photo to Jazz. “Look at that.”
Jazz slams a hand over her mouth to cover her loud gasp. Her eyes widen, and her other hand trembles as she looks at a picture of our mothers standing next to each other with three toddlers at their feet.
After a moment, she finally speaks. “What the hell is this? Where did you get it?”
I point to the beautiful blonde on the left. “That is Jennifer Wilkes-Davenport. Also known as my mom.”
Jazz’s eyes are quickly filling with tears. “Why are your mom and my mom in a picture together?” She holds up the photo. “That little girl on the right is me.”
"And the two on the left are Ainsley and me."
She shakes her head. “I don’t understand. It has to be doctored or something.”
“Jazz, there’s no doubt in my mind it’s an original. That album has been hidden away in my closet for the last nine years.”
Her face softens as she traces her mom’s image with her index finger. “Do you have a better explanation?”
"I do." I nod. "When I first ran into that photo, I was nine, maybe ten years old. I asked my dad who the other woman and child were, and he said it was one of my mom's old friends and her daughter. He tried taking the picture away from me—which in retrospect was really weird—but I found it on his desk a while later and stole it back.”
“Our moms were friends?”
I gesture to the picture. Both women have their arms around each other in a side hug. “I’d say yes based on their smiles and body language.”
"That makes no sense. How can our moms hang out with each other when we were kids when my father didn't know I existed until recently? My mom told me so herself—she left when she was pregnant without ever telling him." She studies the picture again. "Holy shit!"
“What?”
She points to the sliding glass door in the background. “That’s the door leading to Charles’ back yard. This photo was taken at his house.”
I already knew that, so I simply nod in agreement.
Jazz pinches the bridge of her nose. “Please tell me you have an explanation because now I have even more questions.”
I grab her hand. “Jazz, look at me.” I wait until her eyes meet mine before continuing. “What do you remember from our little eavesdropping adventure?”
If she thinks about it, the conversation we overheard between our fathers proves they both knew about Mahalia’s pregnancy.
Her brown eyes widen as it hits her. "Oh, my God. They lied—both Charles and my mom. He knew about me all along, didn’t he?”
I nod my head. “Yeah, he did. I’m pretty sure Madeline knew, too. John, my P.I., dug up tax records proving your mom worked at the mansion as a live-in maid shortly before you were born until you were two or three years old. Madeline and Peyton would’ve moved in somewhere in the middle of that timeframe. I can’t imagine she’d allow someone else’s child to live in that house without good reason.”
“But why would my mom hide that? She already told me he wasn’t a good man, so why wouldn’t she be honest about when she left?”
I shrug. “If I had to guess, I’d say she was trying to protect you. The less you knew, the better.”
“What am I missing? There has to be more to this story.”
“There is.”
Here we go.
CHAPTER TEN
KINGSTON